The Nun
by TheHedgeRider
Summary: What happens when a nun, a demon and the human he's hiding inside reunite after ten years? Good question!
1. The Inquiry

Apologies for any spelling and grammar errors as well as any instances of bad Latin or horrible Italian. Also, this is what happens when a Klonnie writer watches the Nun and gets an idea lol

**The Inquiry**

"_Pater __noster__, qui es in __caelis__, __sanctificetur__nomen__tuum__…" _

The words to the Lord's Prayer always came easily to her. To this day she remembered how proud she'd been the first time she managed the whole thing without stumbling over the Latin. From then on, it had been as easy and as necessary as breathing…

But today, every syllable clung to the back of her throat like wet cotton; every breath broken and halting. She furiously blinked back the tears that pricked her eyes; her grip tight on the rosary clasped between her trembling hands as she prayed.

"_Et ne __nos__inducas__ in __tentationem__, set libera __nos__ a __malo__…"_

_Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil_…the words died a quick death on her tongue. Had her steps not been ordered by the Lord and led her straight to this moment?

A gentle tapping at the door drew her attention in time to see it open and reveal the familiar face of Father Gillies. It was his office in which she sat and it was in his warm brown eyes that she found the only sign of encouragement she'd received since she arrived in Vatican City three days prior.

"They're ready for you, my child," he said softly and extended a hand.

Her chair scraped against the wooden floors and rudely broke the silence between them and all either of them could do was smile sadly in reply. Given how unsuited they'd been ten years ago, it often amazed her how steadfast their partnership was now. Back then he was the battle-tested cleric and she the untried Seer; thrown together and charged with preventing an apocalypse.

Back then he called her by her given name.

It seemed only fitting that the forces responsible for forging that partnership would also bring it to its end.

"_You are not the first nor the only Sighted person within our ranks, Bonnie" he'd said. "So, I can't help but wonder why someone as inexperienced as you were chosen to participate in this inquiry?"_

"_I suspect I was selected for a couple of reasons," Bonnie replied with a small smile. "One being that Cardinal Saltzman believes that while I may not be the first nor the only, I am the strongest among us as my gift is more __multifaceted__ than the others."_

"_Show me."_

_Bonnie frowned at the command. "Would you like me to snatch a coin from your ear as well? I'm not a purveyor of parlor tricks, Elijah."_

"_Nor do I see you as such," he answered. "But if the Cardinal is convinced enough of your talents to send you here, then I need to know the length and breadth of them should worse comes to worst."_

_Bonnie sat back in her chair and observed him as she had been throughout dinner. To his right hovered the spirit of a woman named Sabine who looked down lovingly upon him. However, to his left, a spirit shouted betrayal at him._

"_You need to repent for whatever wrong you committed against Katherine," Bonnie advised as she watched the color drain from the priest face at the woman's name. "Her lust for vengeance will continue to twist at her until it manifests in your life."_

_Bonnie turned to the dark-haired specter she when she came to crouch down by her chair; eyes full of anger and sorrow._

"_I won't ask the nature of the offense even though she's more than willing to tell me," Bonnie continued as Katherine resumed glaring at the source of her woes. "And even if she weren't here, it would take very little effort to skim through your mind and find out for myself, but I won't out of respect for your privacy."_

That had gotten his attention even if remained unconvinced she'd be up to the task. In hindsight, she doubted anyone would have been up for it regardless of experience. Who could honestly say they'd be fully prepared to go to northern Italy and enter a centuries-old abbey to do battle with a demon unlike any other?

The Abbey.

L'abbazia sacra di montagna...

"_The castle that sits on the property was built by a wealthy nobleman in the late 12__th__ century," Elijah explained as they dined together. "It wasn't discovered until later, that he was also a devout occultist and committed to creating and opening a gateway to the __Infernum__."_

_A forkful of chicken froze on its way to Bonnie's mouth at that._

"_He and his disciples would've been successful had members of the Order and the Knights Templar not worked in concert to bury the gate and execute those responsible for it. Once the threat was vanquished, the Church assumed control of the castle, sanctified the land surrounding it and set about building the abbey. A monastery or a convent has been installed there to guard that gateway throughout the subsequent years."_

"_Was there been any questionable activity there during that time?" Bonnie asked._

"_No," Elijah replied. "All remained very quiet until WW2 when the entire region was subjected to repeated bombings, one of which managed to both unearth the gate. Whatever being lay on the other side of it was able to influence several of the monks who resided there at the time and the gate was partially breached as a result._

"_Thankfully, the Order was alerted in time to send its agents and they were able to prevent the demon—__Valak__—from breaking free and re-sealed the gate. The amount of damage caused to the gate itself, however, required a state of perpetual prayer in order to maintain the seal's integrity. Whatever monks survived the incident were relocated and nuns were installed and have been there ever since."_

_The priest paused in his explanation in order to give Bonnie a chance to absorb._

"_I've never heard of a demon by that name before," she said finally._

"_Under normal circumstances you shouldn't have had to for quite some time, if at all," Elijah replied. "For __Valak__ is the trueborn son of Satan, second only to him in the hierarchy and threatening to claim the throne for himself."_

"_So, he's the…antichrist?"_

"_Hardly," Elijah scoffed. "The antichrist is little more than a possibility at this point. A specific series of events has to occur in order to bring that prophecy to fruition. Any one of those events can be and have been thwarted hundreds of times over to prevent it; going back to even before the Order was even founded. Perhaps there may come a time when we can't stop his birth, perhaps not._

"_Valak__ on the other hand is a beast of an entirely different sort. For where the antichrist is intended to be the unholy reflection of our Lord, __Valak__ is the unholy reflection of Lucifer himself—created by him in much the same way the Almighty created the Morning Star._

"_Where Lucifer remains a slave to his resentment of his Father, __Valak__ has no such weakness. He cares not for God, or man or even his own maker and is more than willing to betray him as Lucifer did God..."_

"_By using the gateway and claiming dominion over the earth for himself," Bonnie finished. Given her position within the Order, she knew there were facets of the Order's knowledge and position that were above her pay grade. But this..._

"_Indeed," Elijah nodded. "Which is why that gateway must remain sealed. The nuns on that mountain have been charged with its safekeeping since the 40s and now one of them has apparently taken their own life—prompting our presence."_

She had no idea how completely unprepared she was for the events that followed and now years later with many battles under her belt, she felt even less so.

Father Gillies pulled her from her thoughts with a gentle squeeze of her hand and beckoned her to follow him down the dimly lit corridor.

She now was the subject of an Inquiry and set to provide testimony. Whether it was to prove her guilt or innocence, she wasn't sure. She only knew that what happened in that abbey then and the peril they were all in now could in no small part be laid at her feet.

Bonnie stopped for a moment to rally her nerve. In the past, her appearances in the Great Chamber were perfunctory in nature; no nonsense debriefings that detailed the vanquishing of countless demons.

All but one, apparently, she thought tersely before she walked through the open double doors that led into the very heart of the _Sanguinem__ Domus_.

**#**

The current head of the Sanguinem Domus, Cardinal Jonas Martin, watched as the subject of their inquiry was led into the Great Chamber; the diminutive stature of the young woman made her seem childlike within its vastness and only served to remind him that she'd only been 21 when assigned the incident at Chiuisa. Had it been his call back then, he would not have done it. The Order's doctrine insisted that members no be assigned to such severe cases until they were at least five years removed from taking their vows.

She hadn't taken hers and now it appeared that mistakes had clearly been made.

To call the Sanguinem Domus—the Order- clandestine was to understate. By all accounts the Order didn't exist, save in the imagination of those seeking an explanation for how matters so supernatural and devastating in nature were tended to without the world's knowledge. The Order itself had been in existence for over five centuries at the time of Vatican II—a perfect opportunity to decommission it—but its necessity had never been in doubt by any pontiff since its inception.

Miracles, exorcisms, hauntings, etc., were not matters that attracted the order's interest given their relative simplicity. Rather, the Sanguinem stood on the front lines of the greatest war in the history of the world. A war that found them constantly at work preventing the dark principalities of the Infernum from breaking through to the mortal plane. The elements with which they dealt were better found in some genre-specific television show. Hellmouths, blood drinkers, disciples of the darkest of arts and demons from the highest orders of hell were what the Sanguinem focused their efforts on with vigilance.

Bonnie took her seat before a gallery filled with the members of their Order; her rosary still gripped tightly in her hand.

Cardinal Martin cleared his throat and rose from him seat; summoning the attention of all in attendance.

"Given the urgency of the situation in hand and the time constraints imposed," he began. "It is in all of our best interests that we move through these proceedings as expeditiously as possible. Having reviewed all documents entered into the record and having heard the testimony of Father Gillies, we are now ready to hear the testimony of Sister Anna Christina—formerly known as Bonnie Sheila Bennett."

"Sister Anna Christina," he continued, turning his attention to her. "Given the nature of your testimony, anything you divulge will be held sacrosanct within the auspices of confession, do you understand?"

"Yes, your Eminence," Bonnie answered as she nodded slowly.

"Then, unless there are any objections, we would like to hear your account of the events involving yourself, one Niklaus Mikaelson, the demon Valak and the taking of New Orleans, Louisiana."

A/N: I'd wanted to submit this last year for Klonnie Week but got severely sidetracked so rather than have Anatasia-G put a hit out on me, I thought it best to offer it up now. These chapters are going to be extremely short. How short? Short enough to have the them all posted and the story wrapped up by the end of the weekend-gods willing lol I've never really told a story like this one so I'd really appreciate input. Happy GothicKlonnie2k19!


	2. The Past is Prologue

**The Past is Prologue**

_New Orleans – Two Weeks Ago..._

Bonnie stood in front of a full-length mirror and smoothed down the folds of her habit. She was accustomed to wearing it in Rome; able to disappear into a sea of black robes wherever she went. But here in the states, garment seemed to draw more attention and unconsciously presumed a higher level of devotion. Personally, she preferred plain-clothes, but the sisters at St. Anne's required the habit even among visitors.

She'd arrived at the church with its adjacent convent the night before; the Mother Superior having agreed to host her for the duration of her investigation into the death of Cardinal Alaric Saltzman.

As far as the coroner was concerned, he'd died of a massive heart attack. But as far as the Order was concerned, no member ever got off that lucky—especially not a high-ranking member.

According to Elijah, Saltzman came to New Orleans to meet with an art dealer who'd come into possession of an artifact suspected of being supernatural in origin.

"_I know he meant a great deal to you," Elijah said, passing her a glass of water._

"_He was the first person to believe me. Parents, teachers, friends...they all said I was either crazy or lying about my visions, but not him. I'll be forever grateful to him for that."_

"_Who will be my contact in New Orleans?"_

"_I was wondering when you would ask," Elijah said wryly. You'll be meeting with the art dealer and believe it or not, he's someone we're both very familiar with—Klaus __Mikaelson__."_

"_Klaus?" Bonnie asked in genuine surprise. She hadn't heard that name in a decade and it still brought a smile to her face. "What on earth is he doing in New Orleans?"_

"_From what I understand, he's been there for the past six or seven years and is a curator at NOMA and I would be remiss if I didn't point out the irony in this being the second unexplained death involving both him and us."_

"_You think he had something to do with this?"_

"_I don't know what I think, Bonnie," Elijah replied honestly. "But I do find it very strange that he is once again involved in a potentially catastrophic situation and once again he's our only witness."_

"_You know as well as I do that __Chiuisa__ had nothing to do with him," Bonnie argued; the small town in northern Italy where they'd met Klaus and also not be spoken of in a decade and she was that for that fact. "He was in no way responsible for Sister Victoria's death no any other nun in that abbey."_

"_No, he wasn't and I'm not ignoring the fact that he saved both our lives back then," the priest answered. "But I stopped believing in coincidence a long time ago and I need you to do the same. Don't allow your affection for __Mikaelson__ create a blind spot when investigating this case." Bonnie had been a novitiate back then and Elijah saw how well she got on with the starving artist. The developed a sort of __comraderie__ that got them through an ordeal out of both of their depths. _

"_Ten years is a long time, Bonnie and neither of us has a say in how someone responds to the trauma of certain events. He may not be the person you once knew._

"_Well then, I suppose there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"_

She left Vatican City that night and returned to the convent in Rome where she lived to pack. Elijah wasn't wrong about Klaus, she knew. His involvement in something of this nature was strange. And there was no guarantee that whatever mental or spiritual wounds inflicted in that abbey in Chiusia healed properly. He could very well be a different man.

She hoped he wasn't.

**BKBKBKBK**

It was such an easy thing…moving through this city.

New Orleans held court for multitudes on a daily basis, but the crush of humanity never threatened to overwhelm. Rather the city seemed to instinctively part itself like the Red Sea to allow him passage. In fact, a walk through the French Quarter was akin to being carried to shore by a gentle wave; the weight of bone and marrow being of no consequence to majesty of the elements.

It was through this sentient sea that Niklaus Mikaelson made his way; his eyes fixed upon the bronze cross seated proudly atop his destination.

The thought of who awaited him caused a near involuntary summoning of his Power; his body cutting a path through the teeming masses at speeds barely seen by the naked eye and easily forgotten.

He'd sensed her presence the moment she arrived the night before; sliding into his mind with a grace that informed her every action. Ten years gone and yet the taste of her soul still lingered on the tongue; an aberration of distinction among the scores he'd sampled before and after.

Effortlessly, he flipped through the pages of his host's memory in search of the day they first met.

_Klaus groaned loudly as he rolled out of bed; the pounding in his head seeming louder than usual after night of too much wine. He was thankful for it-as he'd been dreaming about his father. The miserable old bastard had been a trial when he was alive and now and was still at it even in death._

_Ever berating; ever belittling._

_It took a moment for him to realize that noise came not from his own skull but from the front door downstairs. Bleary-eyed he searched for a clock that showed the time a ten in the morning._

_Far too early for such racket._

_After stumbling down the stairs and stubbing his toes on errant furniture as he waded through the obstacle course of his studio, he yanked open his front door to and found a pair of strangers._

_The frown the man in front of him wore mirrored Klaus' as his hand still hung in the air mid-knock. Behind him and off to the side stood a young woman whose presence quietly insisted that sleep fall from his eyes._

_She was dressed primly; the skirt of her neat little suit landing well past her knees while the well-tailored matching jacket left everything else to the imagination. Fortunately, his imagination was known to be quite vivid and his practiced eye discerned the curves she attempted to hide._

"_Father or husband?" He asked, finally, his voice as rough and uneven as the path the path he'd taken to reach them._

"_I beg your pardon?" Mr. Frown asked in confusion while Miss Prim wore a polite smile and did her level best to avoid looking in his direction._

"_The only reason a man would show up at my door at such an ungodly hour is because he's either a disgruntled father or a disgruntled husband. Which are you?" Klaus answered before he released a jaw-cracking yawn and returned his attention to Bonnie._

_Golden brown skin blushed prettily beneath his gaze until large feline eyes finally drummed up the nerve to meet his and the woman's spine became a mildly indignant steel rod. She stared back at him with a sort of polite obstinacy that suddenly made this whole affair a lot more interesting._

"_I am Father Elijah Gillies," Mr. Frown announced. "And this is my associate Sister Bonnie. We've come regarding the matter at the abbey."_

"_Ah...I suppose the collar should've been a dead giveaway..." Klaus mumbled as he scratched the fresh whiskers on his jaw._

"_Yes, it should," Elijah replied tersely, already uncomfortable with the attention this __Mikaelson__ was paying his companion. "We were told you would provide us with a detailed statement of events and escort us to the abbey."_

_Klaus groaned as the memory came back to him and smacked his lips to relieve the cotton in his mouth, "I did agree to do that, didn't I?" _

"_Yes, you did, sir. Now if you would please get dressed so that we might be about our business..."_

"_Can't we do this tomorrow? I'm not really fit for it today."_

"_Mr. __Mikaelson__," Bonnie said finally. "A young woman has died. I'm sure you can suffer a bit of inconvenience for her sake if not ours."_

_Her voice reminded him of a single malt scotch he tried once. Husky and warm and filled with the earthiest of tones; matched only by a pair of bottle green eyes that tried to appeal to the better self she'd already convinced herself he possessed._

_And in that moment, disappointing her became the furthest thing from his mind._

The soul this body belonged to—Klaus-thought of it often; the artist focusing in on the details of the moment.

_The __crookednesss__ of her smile…_

_The curly __flyaways__ that escaped her updo…_

_The hint of sadness in her eyes…_

Unlike Klaus, his own memories of Bonnie Bennett weren't nearly as…_cute_. How could it be otherwise when a beautiful and chaste nun encounters a—how did they put it?

"_Being of unspeakable evil…Profanity given form…The bane of Satan himself…"_

Valak would have sufficed.

Still, while not as pleasant, his own memories of her were no less affecting. Affecting enough that even as she and Father Gillies triumphantly boarded a train to leave Chiuisa, his plan to bring her back to him had already begun to take shape. And now that she was here, it would take both his and Klaus' best efforts to keep her from seeing the truth until the appropriate moment.

When he arrived at St. Anne's Church and chuckled at the sight of stone gargoyles and avenging angels perched high above to defend it. Holy sigils were imbedded in the outer walls and he knew that within held a cornucopia of the same; each of them emanating with enough Power to encourage anyone up from the pit to keep a wide berth.

_Still, aesthetically, it was all quite lovely_, he mused as he's pushed the doors to the sanctuary open and entered.

Practically empty given the time of day, he found her kneeling at the altar; still engrossed in her morning prayers:

_Sister Anna Christina..._

_Bonnie Sheila Bennett._

He knew it wasn't mandatory for her to adopt a new name upon taking her vows. But, given the events that led up to her rather dubious choice, he supposed she did so in search of some form of distance.

Still, seeing her there; bent in supplication to one he deemed beneath her, only served to stir his ire.

Cloaked in the dark folds of her habit, his fingers itched to burn the rags from her body, but he nonetheless waited. Patience was a lesson taught and well-learned over the millennia; if he could wait the simple handful of years it had taken to have her within his grasp again, he could certainly wait a few minutes more.

The sign of the cross signaled the end of her prayers as she rose to her feet. Her lovely profile peeked out from the dark veil and white cap she wore when she glanced over her shoulder at her visitor. A smile broke across her face in recognition, but it was not for him. No, her smile was for the body he inhabited and the soul it belonged to.

"Klaus," Bonnie grinned; clasping his hands when she reached him. He caught the shadow of doubt that dimmed her eyes at the contact and he wondered if perhaps she'd finally discovered the truth. But it was gone a second later as she greeted him warmly.

"What are you doing here?" She asked. "Your assistant scheduled our meeting for tomorrow."

"Indeed," he replied. "But when a dear friend long removed arrives in my city, how could I not present myself poste-haste?"

He tucked one of her hands easily into the crook of his arm and led her away from the church and into the streets of New Orleans.

"Your city?" Bonnie scoffed. "What of your beloved Chiuisa; or have you assimilated into American life so completely?"

"About a completely as you have Italian life," he replied, nodding at her habit. "You do know those things are optional, yes?"

"Optional yes, but secular clothing is frowned on in the Order and in Rome and—as it happens—in St. Anne's. At this point, force of habit is bound to win. No pun."

"Well we'll have to do something about that while you're here," Valak replied smoothly, careful to keep the disdain from his voice. "In fact, how long are you here?"

"Hopefully no more than a week," Bonnie answered, thinking of the purpose of her visit. "If the investigation takes longer than that, then I'll probably have to call in Elijah."

"Ah…the ever-grim Father Gillies," he chuckled as they continued out of the church and strolled down the street. "I'm surprised he isn't here already; hovering over you like a raincloud."

"It's been ten years, Klaus," Bonnie reminded him. "I'm far from a novice and his responsibilities have greatly increased."

"Lucky for me," he replied, thinking of the stern priest. He was stern but fair, and were their priorities not in direct opposition, he supposed he might have gotten on fairly well with the renowned exorcist.

"You've changed," Bonnie remarked as she looked up at him.

"Have I?" he answered with interest. _Perhaps it's the fact that I'm demon whose been sharing this body for the past decade? _

"Yes," Bonnie chuckled. "When I first met you, you were—to put it mildly-a bit of a mess. An endearing mess, but a mess all the same."

Gone were his paint-splattered boots and well-worn Henleys and jeans; replaced by a finely tailored suit and long trench coat. The curls that seemed to abhor order just as much as their owner did, were now well-tamed and expertly cut.

But his smile didn't appear to come as easily.

"What can I say? Getting drafted to help prevent the apocalypse and then living to tell the tale can be a little sobering," He shrugged. "But to be fair, you've changed too."

"Really? In what way?" Bonnie laughed.

_The light that once filled your eyes is almost gone_, Valak thought to himself only feel Klaus echo his agreement.

"Well...you're still short," he replied with a smirk and was rewarded with a slap to his arm. "But not nearly so full of wide-eyed optimism."

"It's like you said," Bonnie replied ruefully. "Preventing the apocalypse can be a little sobering."

"We should do something about that," he said as they turned a corner. "And since I didn't stop by to simply take you on a stroll around the block, I suppose no would be a good time to invite you to join me for dinner tonight."

"I'm not in town for leisure, Klaus," Bonnie reminded him, ignoring how the idea of spending a few hours away from the thoughts that usually plagued her mind lightened her step.

"I know you aren't," Valak replied. But that doesn't mean we can't catch up before the horror gets its turn."

_And quite a few turns at that._

_A/N: Since y'all should know by now that I'm a fan of non-linear storytelling, the events of 10 years ago will unfold as the present day story progresses. Since the past takes place over the course of about 48 hours and the present over two weeks, you can see why these chaps are ending up short as hells. Anyway, hope you're enjoying because now I need to leave work and I can go home to finish editing and posting more. Cheers!_


	3. Polite Discourse

**Polite Discourse**

_Chiuisa – 2009_

"_You're American, aren't you? Klaus asked from behind the driver's seat as his old pickup truck rumbled through Chiuisa towards the mountain path. He'd led Bonnie to the passenger's after directing Elijah to a spot in the flatbed with barely a second look._

"_Is it that obvious?" Bonnie asked._

"_Not really. Your Italian is lovely, but there are a few words here and there when the accent comes through."_

"_I'll have to work on that," she replied with a smile before turning her attention to the road ahead._

"_A small town like Chiusa is probably different from what you're used to over there with your big cities everywhere," Klaus continued._

"_Actually, I'm from a small town myself; a little place called Mystic Falls in Virginia. I'd say Chiusia reminds me of home more than any place I've been in Italy."_

"_And how does a girl from a small town in Virginia end up in a small town in Northern Italy?"_

"_She enters the employ of the Church," Bonnie answered. I've been living in Rome the past few years." When Alaric Saltzman ascended to Cardinal, the Order saw to it that he was relocated from his post in Virginia to Vatican City. It took very little to persuade Bonnie to join him and as a result she worked in the holy city daily, using her Sight to determine the authenticity of certain artifacts that came into the Order's possession._

"_Working for a cardinal in the holy city and you haven't even taken your vows…impressive."_

_Bonnie turned to look at him, "what makes you think I haven't taken them?"_

"_You don't have the look of a married woman," Klaus smirked. _

"_Is that so?" Bonnie laughed._

"_It is. You see married woman—happily married, that is—has a look about her. Like she's carved out a space somewhere that's perfectly for her and enjoys making herself. A single woman on the other hand is always searching, even when she doesn't know it."_

_He burst into laugh when he saw Bonnie gaping at him._

"_Do you disagree?" he asked._

"_Absolutely! It's chauvinistic nonsense!" _

"_But am I wrong…about the vows, that is?" Klaus pressed._

"_No," Bonnie sighed in exasperation. "I haven't taken my vows…yet."_

"_Ah…yet…such a small word with such a big meaning," he mused. "One that is currently in my favor."_

"_Mr. Mikaelson—"_

"_Call me Klaus."_

"_You're __actually__ trying to flirt with me, Klaus?"_

"_You're a single woman; of course, I'm flirting," he teased. "Although to be fair, a married one wouldn't be exempt either—no matter how omnipotent her husband."_

_Bonnie grinned and tried to cool the redness in her cheeks when she glanced back to see Elijah staring at them through the window. She knew their banter played with the limits of propriety, but it also kept her distracted; the noise of her world blessedly muffled and dim._

"_Indulge me in this, Bonnie," Klaus continued, drawing her attention. "Take my mind off where we're going."_

"_Have you always disliked the abbey?" she asked._

"_No. In fact I visited regularly since I was a child. The artwork throughout the place played a role in me picking up a brush. I'm not terribly religious, but Santa Montagna was one of my favorite places to visit—until last week."_

"_What happened, Klaus?" Bonnie asked gently._

"_I thought you were going to indulge me in my flirting," he reminded her._

"_I never agreed to that," she pointed out, wryly. "But I will __if__ you answer my question."_

"_It's all the police report," Klaus shrugged. "I arrived at dawn to start the work and when I walked into the courtyard, there she was."_

"_Did you alert the Abbess?"_

"_No. When I spoke to her on the phone the day before, she said she and all of the sisters would still be cloistered in the castle at that time and the castle is off limits."_

_Bonnie shifted in her seat to face him. "__All of the sisters__? She said all of the sisters would be in the castle? You saw no one in the abbey?" Her brow was furrowed and her eyes seemed to look through him rather than at him. Like she would stare a hole into him and suss out the truth for herself, if need be._

_He had half a mind to believe that she could._

"_No, the abbey was empty except for that poor girl," he frowned in reply as he tried to keep his eyes on the road. _

"_Elijah are you hearing this?" Bonnie asked over her shoulder._

"_Yes," the priest replied through the open window that separated them._

"_Why does that bother you two?" Klaus demanded as he rounded a bend and saw the gates of the abbey come into view._

"_The sisters are committed to a state of perpetual prayer; which means that someone—or in this case seven someones—should always be at prayer in one of the chapels," Elijah explained. "They should have been there when you showed up. The fact that the Abbess told you they wouldn't be is...concerning."_

"_Why?" Klaus scoffed. "What are you going to do, wrap their knuckles with a ruler?"_

_When Elijah didn't answer, Klaus glanced in his rear-view mirror and saw the priest had returned to writing in his small notebook; his interest in provided more insight at an end. Bonnie continued to face him; her eyes far away as she mindlessly fingered the gold cross that hung from her neck._

_"This is about more than a suicide, isn't it?"_

**BKBKBKBK**

New Orleans, 2019

Bonnie sat behind the desk in her temporary living quarters. When she returned from her walk with Klaus, the sisters had been kind enough to offer her the small carriage house on the church's property which was typically used by visiting bishops and cardinals. The Mother Superior said she was willing to make an exception given the circumstances and the need of both privacy and space.

What she didn't say is that neither she nor the other sisters wanted to spend another night under the same roof with Bonnie unless absolutely necessary. She couldn't fault them for it. Unease tended to be a side effect of being in the presence of a Seer; the constant fear of having secrets both remembered and forgotten laid bare.

Still, the carriage house would allow more freedom of movement given that it included a separate entrance to the church's property.

A chime from her laptop alerted her to an incoming call and Elijah face filled the screen when she answered.

"Settled in?" He asked, while rustling though a stack of papers.

"Just about. The sisters offered to put me in the guest house; so, I've been going over the case files. I'm interviewing Klaus tomorrow, but I'm hoping to get a few answers tonight.

"Tonight?" The paper rustling suddenly silent.

"He stopped by earlier and invited me to dinner."

"Still trying to date a nun, is he?" Elijah chuckled.

"It's not a date; it's an invitation to dinner," Bonnie replied. "More importantly, it's a chance to catch up with an old friend while finding out what I can about Saltzman and this artifact."

"Speaking of which, did you get the package I sent?"

"Yes," Bonnie replied flatly, her eyes landing on the velvet box in question.

"And?"

"And…I haven't opened it yet."

"Bonnie…" The exasperation was clear in his voice. The box contained the rosary that was recovered from Saltzman's body. He'd carried it with him for the past twenty-five years at least. Which meant a considerable amount of the man's history was contained within in it. Elijah knew Bonnie well enough to know that this part of her job made her just as uncomfortable as it made everyone else. She was a private person by nature and so to intrude upon another's privacy—especially someone she'd known—felt like a misdeed she couldn't reconcile.

"I will…definitely before I meet with Klaus tomorrow."

"And tonight?" Elijah pressed.

A knock at the door kept her from answering. Outside stood a young woman wearing the pristine white habit of a novitiate. In her arms she carried a short stack of boxes.

"Pardon me, Sister Anna Christina, but there's been another delivery for you."

Bonnie thanked her warmly and gathered the boxes into her arms.

"Did you send these?" She asked the laptop as she set them down; half listening for an answer as she pulled a small envelope from the largest of the boxes.

_St. Anne's isn't the only place with a dress code._

_Car will be around at 7._

_K._

Elijah quirked an eyebrow as he watched her lift a dress of forest green from the box

"I apologize, Bonnie; you're absolutely right. This is definitely _not_ a date."

**BKBKBKBK**

A rush of warm blood filled his mouth as he drank; the young blond who's name he'd forgotten offered up a sound more sigh than moan from her place in his lap. Her fingers weakly scratched at the lapels of his jacket.

They sat upon a sofa from the time of Louis XVI that he'd recently restored. The piece had been delivered while he was out and it pleased him to see how well it fit among the other findings in his home.

Given how infrequently he imbibed, he should slow and savor one such as she as he found human blood to be more of an acquired taste. Lesser made demons were reliant on fresh blood; reliant to the point of addiction and resulting in nearly every credible tale of vampires in history. However, the better made were able to glean more than nourishment from the scarlet elixir.

Blood—the fresher the better—served as camouflage when dwelling inside a human. Under most circumstances, a Seer can spot a lesser demon a mile away—blood or no blood. But the more finely made were nearly undetectable to a Seer without prolonged exposure.

And he was made more finely than all.

In a matter of hours, Bonnie and her abilities would come strolling into his sanctum; but in defiance of time, he felt a sense of anticipation that had him nearly draining his offerings at first bite. Anticipation of her company and the tantalizing prospect of being discovered; of testing the limits of the young woman's Power. So he'd drink until he was fucking plump, if need be and enjoy the sport of it.

"_This is a bad idea…You should have waited until tomorrow…" Klaus warned._

"Ha! As if you could!" Valak garbled in reply, his mouth still full. He repositioned the blonde for a better angle on her neck before sinking his teeth into her again.

"_We're supposed to be drawing her in; not running her off, remember?"_

"Never mind that," Valak snapped, pulling his teeth away in annoyance. "Did you see her this morning? Did you see what she's condemned herself to? She looks like she in a state of perpetual mourning and I'm the unspeakable evil?"

"Who are you talking to?" The blond asked, weakly.

"Your mother," Valak replied tersely.

"_Stop trying to make this sound easier than it actually is!"_

"It is easy. She is mine and I will have her. Everything else is incidental."

"_Except you've forgotten the fact that it's me she loves and me she wants; but you're the one she's completely frightened and repulsed by," Klaus fired back. _

"_HOW ARE YOU GOING TO FIX THAT?"_

Valak held a limp wrist to his lips. Against his better judgement, he agreed to try things Klaus' way when it came to how best to bring Bonnie to them willingly. He would indulge his human counterpart for as long as results appeared fruitful. But if they proved no closer to winning her, then more extreme measures would need to be taken.

"Well, first off, I'm going to have two more like this one…then a shower…"

A/N: Thanks for reading and the comments! Stopping to edit after each update was slowing me down so I finished the fic and am now just editing each chapter and posting. Stay turned for more.


	4. Sanctuary

**Sanctuary**

_Chiuisa - 2009_

_Klaus left his truck by the side of the road and led Bonnie and Elijah through the wooded area that surrounded the abbey. With the abbey currently closed to the public, the gate of the main entrance had been lowered until further notice and left the delivery gate to the south as the only way into the abbey without passing through the castle itself, he'd explained._

"_Did you come this way that morning?" Bonnie asked, adjusting the overnight bag on her shoulder._

"_I brought scaffolding; it would have made too much noise." Klaus nodded as they exited the woods and the stone walls of the abbey came into view._

_Bonnie stopped short and lifted her eyes to take in the sight. Each stone groaned of its age and all it had witnessed. The ground beneath her feet creaked and crackled with the dead who lay beneath; every sound a warning that seeped into the air and smelled of the grave._

_It rose as with a tide and crashed down and swept her feet from under her. She flailed against the violent current as she herself being dragged down in undertow. Panic filled her lungs as ice-cold dread pricked her skin with a thousand needles. She struggled against until she was able to reach out and find purchase with a voice that knew her name._

"_Bonnie?" Klaus called again, his hand landing on her shoulder._

_Bonnie jerked herself out of her reverie; eyes suddenly alert and focused on his._

"_Are you alright?" Klaus pressed; his lips tight as Elijah's concerned frown appeared over his shoulder._

"_I'm sorry," Bonnie muttered. "It was a bit loud for a moment. I'll be fine." She moved past him; still trying to shake off the fugue. _

"_What's she talking about?" Klaus asked; stopping Elijah._

"_Nothing that concerns you," the priest replied coolly before he moved on._

_Their footsteps echoed as they passed through the small gateway and into a damp corridor; the light of the courtyard barely visible at the other end._

"_What did you mean back there?" Klaus asked again when he caught up to Bonnie._

"_It's nothing you need to worry about," she replied absently; her thoughts clearly engrossed with another matter._

"_That's what Gillies said; yet I am about to ask yet again."_

"_You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Bonnie scoffed._

"_In case you hadn't noticed," Klaus argued, stopping her. "We're walking into the last place I ever wanted to see again; a place everyone in town is now convinced is cursed and while you and your priest pal are acting like a dead girl is the least of your problems. Nothing you can say is going make the hairs on the back of my neck stand any straighter than they already are."_

"_I see dead people, Klaus," Bonnie announced, tersely. "Among other things."_

_Klaus blinked hard and his bobbled a bit in confusion. "What…like The Sixth Sense?" he scoffed; making a sound more bark than laugh._

"_More or less," she huffed in reply. She hadn't meant to say anything until the words fell from her mouth. Her Sight wasn't something talked about to anyone outside of the Order, but she'd told him. _

_He gets to leave this place__, she thought. __As soon as he hands us over to the Abbess, he gets to leave._

_She would share her thoughts with Elijah once Klaus was headed back to town, but to her mind, one of the questions she and Elijah had going in had already been answered. _

_Regardless of what lay inside the abbey, the gateway or even Valak himself; the one thing she now knew with absolute certainty was that the land itself was no longer holy. Its consecration, broken; obliterated by whatever had taken place inside. _

_Consecrated ground worked as a filter for Seers; filtering out the noise of everything prior to the purification. Without it, it would take effort to avoid getting lost in the blizzard trying to find the road._

_If things went badly, she wanted someone to remember something about her._

_Something true._

_Klaus frowned at the firm set of her jaw and the stiffness of her walk. This wasn't something he hadn't heard before. There was always someone who spoke to the dead or could read auras or happened to be Catherine the Great in a past life. The difference between them and the earnest little nun next him, was that the nun didn't appear to be the least bit happy about it. _

"_You're serious, aren't you?" _

"_Yes," Bonnie answered irritably._

"_And you see them because they haunt the living?"_

"_Yes."_

"_So that means I've got one hanging around me now, right?" He asked, stopping her again._

"_No, Klaus," Bonnie sighed in exasperation before she yanked her arm from his grasp and stomped ahead._

"_You have three."_

**BKBKBKBKBK**

New Orleans – 2019

Bonnie lowered the back window of the car Klaus sent for her. There had been a polite knock at the door at exactly 7:00 and the young man responsible for driving her about introduced himself as Tyler.

"Tyler," Bonnie asked faintly as she stared out at her destination. "Are you sure this is the place?"

"Yes, Sister," he replied as he opened the door and extended a hand to her. "Mr. Mikaelson said to pick you up at St. Anne's and to bring you back to the residence. _This is the residence_."

Bonnie stood on the sidewalk and steadied herself; thankful the heels Klaus sent over weren't obnoxiously high as she adjusted her wrap around her shoulders.

She gave the building one final look before she followed Tyler up the walkway to the front door.

Given the number of churches she's visited throughout the world, she placed this one's founding around the mid-1800s. The large round window that dominated the church's façade, displayed the slaying a dragon by St. George in stained glass.

"Elijah's going to love this," she chuckled to herself.

Tyler opened the great oaken doors and stepped aside to allow her passage.

Valak watched from the kitchen as Tyler carefully removed Bonnie's wrap. The dress fit perfectly and offered her an illusion of modesty with its high collar and lowered hem; while at the same time the sleeveless garment wantonly clung to every curve she possessed. Her hair was pulled up into an artful chignon while the gold earrings he'd sent along with the dress and shoes found their matching flecks in her eyes and made them dance.

"Just in time," He called as he wiped his hands with a towel. "The Bolognese needs just a little bit longer." His dark blue shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and "Hell is a Tiny Kitchen" was emblazoned in red across the black apron that coved the soft grey of his slacks. The perfectly coiffed curls from earlier in the day had won their freedom; yielding only briefly to the errant fingers that combed through it.

"You live in church?" Bonnie asked, nonplussed.

"I live in a _former_ church," He replied. "A number of parishes merged a few years ago after a redistricting. St. George's ended up the odd church out and rather than see it torn down and the property sold to whoever, I bought it. Corner lot, beautiful gardens, small cottage in the back…how could I not?"

"And it came with its own pipe organ," he added, pointing above Bonnie's head to the massive instrument housed on the upper level; its dark patinaed pipes arranged to flank the roundness of St. George's window.

"You look lovely," he said, when he reached her; pleased she'd indulged and wore his gifts.

"This isn't a date, Klaus." Bonnie blurted out.

"I don't remember saying that it was," Valak replied with feigned ignorance.

"I'm serious," Bonnie insisted. "Before this goes any further, I want to be sure we're on the same page."

Valak laid his hands on her shoulders and smiled wryly. "Bonnie…there are a number of women that would take one look at the current setup and know that this is not a date."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Bonnie frowned.

"Just that my dates tend to be more _elaborate_ than a quiet evening a home," he shrugged. Iron chandeliers hung from the exposed beams above and suffused the cavernous space with a warm glow as he guided her through the living area and past the dining area before gently nudging her to explore on her while he poured the wine.

It was as strange now as it had been that morning; being in one another's presence without a hint of animosity. Tonight, she moved about with ease and curiosity; stopping here or there for a closer look at details of a painting or piece of furniture. But he also remembered a night when she was locked in battle with him; her white habit stained with blood.

_Some of it hers…some of it his._

She had a bit of Power to her which manifested itself as Sight. Too common to be a fluke and too rare for normalcy; one of her ancestors from millennia ago likely found themselves seduced by angel or demon. And at any given point down the line where genetics and the supernatural happen to meet, a Seer…or Empath…or Medium…or who knows what else, was the result. So, it had been of little to no consequence to him that the little nun had Power; a mere drop in a bucket compared to his own.

But…that one drop proved as hard and faceted as diamond; cutting just as cleanly and reflecting light just as brilliantly. Back then, she'd been less skilled and easier to deceive. Still, she'd fought against him with a tenacity that belied her slight, mortal form.

She surprised him then and he'd spent a decade with Klaus as a result; the mark he placed on her insuring that she was never far from either of their thoughts.

He knew she'd tried many times to remove it, but the mark still answered his call and allowed him to linger in the shadows of her mind. At first to spy on an enemy but eventually just to satisfy the desire to be near her. His visits weren't frequent enough to arouse her suspicions, but they did offer a window into how she fared under the watchful eye of her overlords.

To her credit, she should've been dead or utterly consumed a hundred times over; but she was possessed of an iron will around wrapped itself around her Power and vanquished all who stood before her.

But misplaced loyalty kept her bound to those who saw her as nothing more than a tool; to be used until broken and replaced.

"Answer me this," Bonnie asked, when she sensed him behind her and a wineglass slid into her hands. "How does a starving artist from a small town in Italy become a notorious art dealer in Louisiana?"

"And in 10 years no less!" She added with a laugh and a poke to his ribs.

"Well if you must know," his voice rumbled over her. "After Santa Montagna, I left. What happened made things so different for me and I couldn't pretend nothing happened. So, I stayed with a friend for a few days and drank myself under many tables. And while I was under there, I met up with some less than reputable friends who convinced me to come work for them."

"Doing what?" Bonnie asked already dreading the answer.

"Less than reputable friends have a tendency to do less thank reputable things, Bonnie. And the less reputable they are, the more money there is at the end of it."

"And the more likely you are to get yourself _killed_," Bonnie added, her brows knit in concern.

"I was possessed and nearly killed by a demon; going out any other way doesn't seem like such a big deal," Valak shrugged. Klaus' descent into nihilism lasted for nearly a year while Valak lay dormant as his wounds healed.

She'd made him bleed; and the impotent rage Valak felt at her audacity fueled Klaus' exploits throughout Europe. Once his strength returned, Valak's thirst to strike down the interloper who tested the patience of dragons, burned white hot.

Until it became a fire of a different sort.

"Anyway," he continued. "After a year, I got tired of taking orders and did what I needed to do to carve out a niche for myself—the procurement of arts and antiquities—and made my services available to the highest bidder. I eventually branched out from Europe until I landed in the States. I've been here ever since."

"And you curate at the art museum in your spare time?" Bonnie asked. The sound of his voice lulled the tension from her limbs despite the nature of his adventures. She should be horrified, she knew, but who'd witnessed the rending of a soul locked in the clutches of a demon; anything less than that could only be seen as mundane.

He was a criminal who and continued to do criminal things; and she was a nun who thought of chopping a gold band from her finger at least once a day.

"Indeed, but I'm there in a voluntary capacity," Valak went on. "I don't need the salary and my work with the museum keeps me in the know when it comes to items that wouldn't necessarily make it into one of my exhibits."

"Like the piece Cardinal Salzman came to you about," Bonnie deduced. She wasn't sure how or when it happened, but they were now nestled into the corners of one of his couches. Her shoes abandoned; a platter of hors d'oeuvres before them.

"Is it here?" Bonnie asked as she popped a savory morsel into her mouth. She hoped it wasn't. If it were, the yoke of obligation would tug at her until she was questioning Klaus on Saltzman's death instead of enjoying an evening of much needed companionship.

She wasn't ready to give that up just yet.

"No," Valak answered, catching the relief that flashed across her face. "I'm not particularly fond of bringing work home."

"Do you still paint?" She asked suddenly, ready to switch topics. She sat up and gave a final cursory search for one of Klaus' pieces among the open floor plan. "That's the one thing I didn't hear about in all that; the new pieces you've created over the years."

"That's because there are none," Valak replied. "I haven't picked up a brush since the night before you showed up on my doorstep. Nothing's really inspired me, I'm afraid."

It was partially true. Klaus avoided the brush in the beginning as they both struggled to understand their "new normal". But once they had, his fingers would seek out graphite and Bonnie's face would bloom on a sketchpad minutes later—a face that was the subject of a considerable amount of Valak's ire.

After the drawings spontaneously burned to ash enough times, Klaus eventually got the message and stopped altogether.

"That's a shame," Bonnie replied. "I'm truly sorry to hear that."

"I've just detailed a decade of murder, mayhem and money and that's why you're sorry?" Valak laughed.

"Yes, because painting is something you love," Bonnie replied before she set aside her glass and took one of his hands in hers.

"And as for the murder, mayhem and money…what else is there to say? You have been truly sinful, Klaus. More so than even I thought you capable of when we met," she said with a graveness and fought against her smile at the mischief-filled grin he sent her way.

"I don't know if you will ever seek repentance for your deeds or even what form repentance would take; but in the continuing argument of where you'll spend eternity, the past decade would make a strong case for Hell if you don't repent."

"I have been a naughty boy, haven't I?" Valak chuckled.

"Most definitely," she nodded. "But Sight aside; nothing about you tells me you're looking to be forgiven for anything. So, if expected a scolding or a tearful lament for your soul, I'm afraid I don't have the energy for it."

"I thought that was part and parcel of the whole nun thing," Valak snorted as he absently played with her fingers.

"It is," Bonnie admitted. "But if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that the ones doing judging should probably be judged themselves. Either do something about yourself, or leave that to the one in charge…He'll get around to it at some point."

"Is there anything worse than a cynical nun?" she asked with a soft chuckle after Klaus said nothing.

Melancholy seeped from her untapped. The burden she'd undertaken had taken was taking its toll and she was battle weary from the effort. This was not the firebrand who'd once fought him with every fiber of her being for the sake of humanity.

Valak reached out and cupped her cheek. "What have they done to my little warrior?" He whispered, his thumb lingering on the softness of her skin.

"Nothing I didn't do to myself, I suppose," she replied ruefully.

"Yes…but they'll be the one's to pay for it," Valak muttered, more than eager for the moment he would bathe is their falsely pious blood.

"What was that?" Bonnie asked, when she pulled and retrieved her glass.

"The one in charge, remember?" Valak smirked. "He'll get around to it at some point."

#

Valak drove for some time after delivering Bonnie back to St. Anne's. Her scent still lingered in the air; the warmth of her presence nearly tangible.

Lifting the spirits of others had never been of any interest, but Valak was pleased with himself and the number of times Bonnie's laughter rang out during the evening. They'd talked through dinner, dessert and well into the night. He regaled her with stories of Klaus' more gag reel worthy exploits and Bonnie spoke of her travels. She steered clear of _Sanguinem__ Domus_ business in favor of recalling the immersion in the sights and sounds of each new destination.

When he returned her to the care of the sisters at St. Anne's, they walked lightly up the private walkway to the porch of the carriage house.

"_Thank you for tonight, Klaus," Bonnie said after unlocked the door. "I think I really needed it". _

"_I think you did too," Valak smiled wryly. "And…you finally got a chance to taste my cooking,"_

"_And…I remain stunned you're capable of such brilliance," Bonnie teased, keeping her voice low._

"_Be glad you're adorable or you'd pay for that one," he scoffed before he took her hands. _

"_And just so we're clear," he began, when their eyes met. "My door is always open; anywhere and anytime."_

"_Sanctuary, huh?" Bonnie chuckled._

"_For you, always; everyone one else…not fucking likely."_

_Bonnie frowned at that, but studied him closely. He wondered if the effects of the blood were starting to wear off until she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck; her cheek pressed to his._

"_I mean it; thank you," she said softly as she hugged him._

_Valak pulled lowered his head and pulled her in closer; his coat a shield from the chill of the night air as they stood and shared the warmth. For moment he wished the blood had worn off as it stood barrier between his Power and hers. He sensed hers just beyond the divide and the urge to mingle with it-to learn it inside and out and to allow it to do the same—felt akin to longing. _

_Bonnie sighed contentedly and enjoyed the closeness. The silk of Klaus' shirt beneath her cheek soothed her. Until it drew attention to the chest that lay beneath it and the scent of cloves, leather and cinnamon lingered on it. His scent seemed both familiar and unfamiliar to her now, but still it drew her in and reminded her- _

_Awkwardly, she lowered her arms and began to pull away before Klaus's hands were at her upper arms and held her fast. His gaze dared her to look at him and she cursed herself when forest green eyes filled with what could only be described as hunger stared back at her._

_It was the unspoken danger in coming here and seeing him-of spending time with him as they marveled over how everything and nothing had changed—and it now stood front and center and watched her fail to deny her memories of two who'd found each other near the mouth of Hell:_

_The feel of his breath on her skin…_

_The way his hands gripped her flesh…_

_The salt of his skin on her tongue…_

_The past was dangerously close to becoming the present and Bonnie couldn't allow that to happen. Not this time. Not after vows had been taken and oaths rendered._

"_Klaus," she whispered, her tone more plea than warning._

_Valak's jaw tightened when the first notes of her arousal hit him. He had half a mind to smother any protest and kiss her until she ignited beneath his hands. He wanted her dress in tatters as he took her in the garden; the cries he'd wring from her body a sermon to the sisters of St. Anne's on how perpetual adoration is supposed to sound._

_Instead, he released her. _

"_I know," Valak grumbled. "Vows and all that."_

"_Yes, vows and all that," Bonnie nodded, eager to get inside and ignore the hornet's nest of longing she'd accidentally kicked over._

"_Pesky little things, aren't they?" He added. "So much trouble; so, little pay off."_

"Remind me again why I shouldn't level that fucking Order and have done with it?" Valak demanded, shaking off the memory as he guided his car onto a highway."

"_You absolutely should," Klaus replied. "Just not right now. If Saltzman is right, then we don't want to do anything that might…disrupt what's already set in motion."_

"I hate prophecies," Valak said, his annoyance clear as he bobbed and weaved through traffic. "They've had my father tied up in knots for the better part of eternity and I will not get caught in the same snare."

"_Your father plays by the rules; he plays the game," Klaus reminded him. "For people like him and the other guy, playing the game is more important than winning it. If it weren't, then one of them should've done it by now." _

"_You are not them…and neither am I and we're not here to play games." From what Klaus had come to understand, prophecies were ultimately a tool. The trick seemed to be in using them properly rather than being used by them. _

Frustration ground Valak's teeth together. Klaus hadn't said anything he didn't already know. If Saltzman was correct and the prophecy true, then yes—for the moment-striking out at the Order would be an unnecessary ripple upon seas that needed calm.

"Very well," he said finally as he drove towards Bourbon St. He needed someone-several someone's—to return his focus to the task ahead and away from the sad-eyed siren that plagued him.

"_I'll be in the driver's seat tomorrow," Klaus offered. They had an office at the museum, but given the infamy of the piece Saltzman came for, it was stored at a private where items were brought for restoration prior to sale. Bonnie would meet him there with her questions and her Sight ready for bear._

"Agreed," Valak replied. Tomorrow, Klaus would hand Bonnie a very hard pill to swallow by way of Saltzman death. But swallow it she must for both her sake and for theirs.

If the road to Hell was paved with good intentions, then the glare of truth would show them a new world.

_

A/N: In the editing process, this story had decided to take on a life of its own with regard to the amount of lore and world building that's been added and conversely, affects the overall path of the story. Translation: what happens in this fic from here on out may stop just short of blasphemy or might tumble right on into it. My money's on the latter.

Anyway now that tech difficulties are over and I'm back on track and should be finished editing the next one soon.

Also, I hope I'm making it clear in the writing what's going on with Klaus and Valak both with each other and with Bonnie. If I'm not, please let me know. Why they are as they are will start to be revealed in the next update.


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